epilogue
I Found My Way Home
One Year Later…
Denver, Colorado
The evening air is cool against my skin, threading through my hair as I stand at the top of Red Rocks Amphitheater.
The horizon stretches endlessly, a canvas gold from the sun’s placement, the monolithic stones glowing as if lit from within.
I lift a hand to my brow to block the lingering glare, but it doesn’t stop the awe pressing at my chest.
Our show starts in just a few hours. Our show. A stop on our first full-length headlining tour—words I still can’t say without disbelief curling around them.
Elias spent three months in treatment, and while there, he poured himself into writing.
The result was Through the Storm, the album that dropped two months ago.
Every track bleeds honesty, darkness and recovery, shame and redemption.
It’s his journey carved into melody and rhythm. It’s brutal, raw, and brilliant.
The world agreed. Number one on the charts for weeks, still holding strong in the top five.
Cotton Candy Skies is nominated for awards we used to only joke about, and the album itself is up for Album of the Year.
I always knew the guys had this in them, but to see it unfold, to stand in it, be a part of it? I don’t have words big enough.
We also chose to hand over the recording of Traeger’s confession to the police.
On its own, we knew it wasn’t enough to guarantee a conviction, but it became a crucial piece in his harassment trial.
Elias took the stand as a character witness, and when the jury heard that recording played aloud in the courtroom, it shifted something.
He may never fully pay for what he did to Elias, not in the way we wished he would, but the evidence helped hold him accountable for the harm he inflicted on so many women. Watching justice finally tip against him, even if only partially, was enough. For Elias. For me. For all of us.
We’re halfway through the tour now, and every night has been a fever dream—arenas packed to the brim, audiences singing every word back, the air electric and unrelenting.
And tonight… tonight it’s Red Rocks. We even scored back to back shows here, so we’ll be playing to another sold out show tomorrow night.
I glance toward the stage where the guys are tuning, wires trailing across the wood. My footsteps echo as I weave through the empty rows, each one amplifying the sense of history carved into this place.
When I reach the front, Cody spots me. He grins wickedly, and before I can guess his intent, he launches into a dramatic backflip off the stage, landing beside me with a flourish.
“Jesus man, you’re going to land on your face one of these days, and I’m going to laugh my ass off,” I say, shaking my head.
“I’m a professional, Ramona,” he replies, dusting his shoulder, offense lacing his voice. He flicks my nose with a smirk, and I shove him in return.
Then he slings an arm around my shoulders and tilts his chin toward the horizon.
“I’ve always dreamt of playing a show here,” he says, his voice gone wistful.
I lean into him, my own smile tugging.
“Well, now it’s not just a dream.”
I glance up just in time to catch Elias adjusting the mic stand, his fingers tightening the knob in a way that feels more like a distraction than a necessity.
When his gaze lifts and collides with mine, a smirk tugs at his mouth—familiar, easy—but behind it, I catch the flicker of something rare in him. Nerves.
Elias is never nervous before a show. The stage is his sanctuary, the place he transforms into something untouchable, larger than life.
He was born for this, for the lights and sounds and the roar of a crowd.
And yet, I know him too well to mistake what I see.
It’s subtle—the slight shift in his posture, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s there, trembling just beneath the surface.
Maybe it’s the venue. Red Rocks isn’t just a stage, it’s a legend carved into stone. Every artist dreams of standing here, their music echoing against the crimson cliffs, carried into the night sky. To finally arrive at a place like this, maybe even he can feel the weight of it.
I press a kiss to my fingertips and hold it toward him in silent reassurance, a gesture only he and I share. His smirk softens, a spark of gratitude in his eyes, and he answers with the same motion.
If I thought this place was magical in the daylight, it’s nothing compared to the way nightfall transforms it into something otherworldly.
The setting sun has spilled across the horizon in sweeping strokes of pink and violet, painting the sky like a canvas designed just for us.
The sandstone walls glow faintly in the fading light, as if holding onto the sun’s warmth for one last breath.
The air hums with anticipation, every sound sharper, every color deeper, the whole world leaning in to witness.
When the band launches into the song that gave the album its name, my throat tightens with emotion.
The first notes ripple through the amphitheater, and I can see it etched across their faces—the sorrow of everything they’ve endured, the triumph of surviving it, the pride in how far they’ve come.
And beneath it all, the love, binding us all together.
Elias’s voice carries the weight of his scars, but also the glimmer of his healing.
Every lyric feels like both confession and victory, devastating in its honesty, breathtaking in its beauty.
This isn’t just a song. It’s his story, and watching them pour it into the world feels like witnessing darkness bloom into light.
Once the rain came, it never seemed to stop
Washing away a piece of me with every drop
Every attempt at shelter became a prison
Chaining me down with every decision
I never believed I could make it through the storm
I never believed that I deserved the light
But you showed me that there’s beauty in the pain
You gave me a reason to stand up and fight
The dark clouds stayed overhead
Lightning striking me down, Over and over (0ver and over)
Drilling in the belief it’s all I deserved
That I wasn’t allowed to take cover (take cover)
I never believed I could make it through the storm
I never believed that I deserved the light
But you showed me that there’s beauty in the pain
You gave me a reason to stand up and fight
With the dark clouds still overhead
I felt your hand reach out instead
Over and over, you reminded me
That broken isn’t the same as empty
Now I see the silver lining through the rain
Every shadow only proves the sun remains
I’m not defined by the battles I’ve lost
I’m stronger because I’ve carried them across
I finally believe I can make it through the storm
I finally believe that I deserve the light
And though the rain may fall again someday
I’ve found the strength to stand, to stay
Through the storm
I found my way home
“Sasha, we’ve got to go—we’re going to be late for the show!” I call from outside the dressing room, peeking through the curtain just in time to watch her shimmy into a dangerously perfect leather dress.
“I know, I know! I’m sorry,” she laughs. “But I had to try this bad bitch on. I mean look how fire.” She spins once, hands on her hips, the leather hugging every curve like it is painted onto her skin.
“Damn, girl. It’s downright disrespectful that I’m attracted to men when you exist,” I say, my gaze dragging unapologetically down her body. She looks lethal.
Today is my birthday, and Sasha took me out on the kind of shopping spree that only exists in dreams. Somewhere between boots, dresses, and me losing all sense of time, we got carried away and now we’re dangerously late getting back to Red Rocks for the second show.
She finally reappears from behind the curtain with the dress draped over her arm. Before I can react, she swipes the pile of clothes I’d picked out from my hands and makes a beeline for the register.
“Uh—what do you think you’re doing?” I protest, reaching for the hangers. “You already bought me way too much.”
She doesn’t even slow down. “Never too much for my bestie,” she says, already tapping her card to the reader.
“Ugh. I hate and love you,” I groan, pressing a dramatic kiss to her cheek.
The drive back to the amphitheater turns into a full-blown jam session—windows down, music screaming, both of us singing at the top of our lungs like we’re starring in our own chaotic music video.
Somewhere between the laughter and the off-key screaming, I’m hit with a truth that makes my heart swell: Sasha isn’t just my best friend. She’s my sister.
Jasper is planning to propose to her next week at our Phoenix show, and I can barely contain myself thinking about it. When he pulls her onstage, she might actually combust from happiness.
The desert air is still warm when we pull up at Red Rocks, the sky painted in darkening purples and golds. As we start our climb toward the stage, the sound of the band reaches us—No Way Out echoing through the night.
We race up the steps, lungs burning by the time we reach the back of the stage. But something feels… wrong.
The crowd is quiet.
Not the usual roaring, electric wave of noise, but hushed. Still.
Maybe they’re just completely lost in the song, I tell myself. I wouldn’t blame them.
I turn to Sasha, expecting her usual playful grin, but she’s looking at me differently. Her smile is soft. Tender. Her eyes shine with something I can’t quite place.
“What’s up, Sash?” I ask.
The band stops.
“Go to the stage, Ramona.”
“What? On stage? Why?” Confusion knots in my chest.
She presses both hands to my shoulders.
“Honey… just trust me. Go.”
My brows furrow, but I obey—slipping along the back curtain, heart starting to thud almost painfully against my ribs. I peek out onto the stage, and the guys are holding their instruments, ready to play.
And Elias is in the center.